


ＳＵＰＥＲ  ＨＥＲＯ

by SandrC



Series: One-Shot Wonders [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Commitment Arc, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Multi, Post canon, Psychological Manipulation, a few OCs - Freeform, also im taking some setting liberties, descriptive gore and wounds, fight me clinton, i ship space cadet/happiness, i will throw down, idk where this is going tho so gomen, nonconsentual transformation, sorrynotsorry, the team dynamic fluctuates between platonic and romantic, them nerds become vigilantes, very found family, y'all will catch these hands if I see discourse in the comments, youd better believe me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: After the whole "King Dick" debacle, the Fellowship split to pieces—figuratively and literally—and the augmented spread like dust to the wind. One group, not quite set on what they wanted to do with their lives just yet, made themselves a home and new lives and new names.It's a pity that the jobs of heroes are never done.(And all they wanted was some peace and fucking quiet!...and maybe some coffee and donuts...)





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I am not certain where this will go or when it'll end but this is me playing in Clint's sandbox and also refusing to accept the rushed feeling of the ending of Commitment.
> 
> Also, the relationship tags are...well they're not like complex enough for me to express exactly how this is gonna pan out between the new bois but know this: any romantic relationships between them will never result in explicit sexual content. I ain't about that. The rating is more for violence and descriptive gore than anything else. And Kardalah and Irene work shit out but you'll have to wait to see how ;3

Chris jogged gently down the streets as the sound of Carly Rae Jepsen's E•MO•TION blared through his headphones. His hood was down—because, _yanno_ , after the last time he was mistaken for a "thug" who was gonna "shank all us nice folk here" he wasn't keen on getting arrested again—and the puffing steam of his breath was the only trail he was leaving. He slipped up his sleeve and checked his digital watch. _4:20. Fucking score._ He snickered softly to himself and turned the corner onto the main road.

As cars whizzed by, he allowed himself to mentally wander into the realm of fantasy and irresponsible decisions. He wouldn't have to wear this watch—even though it was _super_ fucking fly as shit and it rocked _every_ outfit he wore—or eat a metric fuckton of McDonalds. He would be able to eat salads _on the reg_. He would've made it to the end of that obstacle course and set the fucking record to boot! He would be home, with his brother, helping out his family.

But reality is a harsh mistress and that particular mistress bitch-slapped Chris into the now as his watch beeped loudly. Chris glanced down at it again and swore under his breath. "You're fucking _killing_ me, guys...one day! Just _one_ day without this!" Resigned, he sighed heavily and broke into a mad sprint. "You'd better appreciate this cause I was gonna hit the Dunk'n'Donuts for a dozen of those good glazed cake donuts and a gallon of that coffee y'all like."

On his wrist, blinking brightly, was a digital message that read: **TIME TO FLY, JUMP BOY — SC**

* * *

Elaine twiddled her thumbs nervously. This was her least-favorite part of anything. "Are you—are you _certain_?"

"Does the mitochondria factor into depression and exhaustion?" She wouldn't answer such a rhetorical question—as most of Natalie's sharp inquiries were—but her coworker pushed on regardless. "Look, Sage said it was on the west-side so we're meeting the idiot there and I need you wholly acclimated to this idea. If you aren't fully in, shit will go down and you and I know that Sage can only manage social media for _so_ long before she passes out from blood loss again."

"It's just...we dealt with that _yesterday_ and...I thought I would have just... _one_ day? To myself..." Elaine didn't mean to whine but...there was very little time she had to just relax and this whole... _nonsense_ was fucking up her steeze.

" _Look_ ," Natalie whipped around, her lab coat flaring at her waist, and pointed a finger at Elaine's nose. "We all have issues. Last time we had two in a row, I had to be hooked up to a sugar drip or I would've starved to death in my sleep. The idiot was vibrating so hard after the last double-hitter that he melted my favorite chair. And you don't get your "me time". Shit's hard but we all deal." She snatched the keys off the key hook and dangled them in front of Elaine's face. "Now buckle up in the back cause I don't want to have to replace the belts in the passenger seat _again_. Fucking _destroyed_ my savings. Also make sure you keep the earpiece in this time cause I won't be relaying our plans out loud."

"I make _no_ promises," Elaine snapped. Still, she got into the back of their van with little resistance. "I _just_ found a restaurant I wanted to try. It had the _nicest_ looking curry."

"Ask the idiot to treat you." The engine turned over and they pulled out onto the road. "Cause I did the one before that and you hulked out on the waiter, flirted with half the staff, and then drunkenly wrestled the sous-chef. We're _still_ banned."

Elaine sighed. _No rest for the wicked._

* * *

Jonathan was having what could easily be described as "the worst, and possibly _last_ , day of my life". Late for the train, late for work, and now he's gonna get fucking crushed by a human made of bricks. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic. Just the final shitty cherry atop a shit sundae of a fucking week of his shitty life's buffet. Speaking of said brick-person—

" _Where are they?!_ " The monster roared, its hands wrapped around the bus it had hoisted above its head. No one answered, of course, as most people had no fucking clue what it was on about, but it didn't seem to care. It was pissed no one was telling it what it needed to know, so it shook the bus again and Jonathan could feel something in him snap as his shoulder slammed against the window. "The ones from yesterday! The ones who _hurt_ me! Where the fuck _are_ they?!"

_And this_ , Jonathan thought dryly through the haze of pain weighing him down, _is how I die. Collateral in someone else's revenge plot. And one out of a Marvel comic no less..._

" _Fuck_ my life," he sighed. One last word before he died. Let it be known that Jonathan Spark was at least witty. His last words will go down in history forever with Oscar Wilde and Theodore Geisel! Fuck my life. Poetry in motion!

"Where _are_ they?!" The monster roared. Jonathan felt the bus shift in preparation to shake again and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see the carnage that was already surrounding him, let alone his own violent death. Besides, he'd already gotten his final say in things. May as well accept it.

" _Dude_ ," a different voice said, "can you maybe put that bus down _gently_ and come talk with us? I'd really hate to kick your ass _again_. It obviously didn't stick the last time and, to be honest, you interrupted me getting donuts, so I'm a _lil_ bit miffed." This voice was oddly familiar and also snarky. Jonathan wondered if it was an angel of death or not.

(He wondered if he had even been faithful enough to earn a spot in heaven. Ehh...too late for forgiveness now. Death, she was a-coming.)

The monster screamed in rage and the bus lurched. Then it stopped and another new voice grunted out, "do you think you can maybe make them mad _after_ we've retrieved the hostages? Or is that _too complex_ a plan to occupy your interest?" Through the sound of straining to hold...something?...aloft, the new voice still was barbed and irritable.

( _Oh, so death has an accomplice. Okay then. Nice to know I'm being taken care of._ )

"Do you _think_ ," the second voice added, the bus shifting slightly with a gritted sound of frustration, "that you could maybe _assist_ me with this, _oh mighty goddess_?" That's when Jonathan's eyes shot open in surprise. That's when he saw _her_.

The scene outside was...well, chaos would have been generous. Blood—his own or others was yet to be determined—coated the window he was laying on and through the sticky red-brown translucence he could see what looked like a fleshy...sling? It was keeping the bus above ground but the brick-monster wasn't holding it any longer. And just beneath his window, beneath the sling holding the bus aloft, was a large, intimidating, and absolutely ripped woman with glowing tattoos, hair that moved like clouds in a storm, and electricity arcing off her in waves. He gaped as she laughed heartily, showing off sharp tusks and glowing eyes the same color as her tattoos.

"AHH, DEMON," the woman— _yeah_ , she was _def_ a goddess for sure—shook a finger at the second voice, "ALL YOU NEEDED TO DO WAS ASK AND KARDALAH WOULD RELIEVE YOU OF YOUR BURDEN! ALLOW ME TO TAKE THIS OUT OF YOUR THIN-STRETCHED GRASP!" And the flesh-sling unraveled and the bus plummeted into the goddess' arms.

The last thing Jonathan saw before he blacked out from blunt-force-trauma was the proud grin of the Goddess Kardalah and a very exasperated looking woman spooling her arms back in as a man behind them bounced about like a rubber ball while the brick monster attempted to swat him like a fly.

_Oh_ , he thought, _super heroes then..._

_Didn't expect that..._


	2. Recoup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-battle irritation. Coffee that is far too strong to be healthy. An inordinate amount of sandwiches.
> 
> The local heroes debate exactly what the actual fuck went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see nerdlords! I finished a thing! :D
> 
> This story was never meant to be anything scheduled so don't get too pleased with me. Still, I have the bare bones of a plot and a shitfuckton of dialogue so...
> 
> Bless the based McElboys and Dad

_"Local heroes Springheel, the Goddess Kardalah, and Dr. Armory saved a bus from the grips of Brick House, a super-powered monster who has terrorized the tri-state area for almost a week now. With minimal injuries on behalf of the hostages, the police department is declaring this the least costly of the trio's accomplishments in terms of collateral damage. After the Goddess Kardalah retrieved the bus from Dr. Armory's strenuous grip, Springheel and Dr. Armory clotheslined Brick House and trussed her up like a Christmas turkey. When asked about their performance and the sudden uptick in superpowered villains, all our reporters could get was this quote courtesy of Dr. Armory: 'If that stupid King ____ hadn't off and tried to become Zeus, ruler of worlds and grand ____father, maybe we wouldn't have to clean up his mess!' More on this at a later time."_

Nadiya turned off the TV and rubbed her forehead wearily. " _Who_ decided that I was Dr. Armory again?"

"SPACE CADET DEIGNED IT YOUR NAME WHEN YOU REFUSED TO GO BY THE DEMON." Kardalah shoved a hoagie down her throat and smiled toothily at Nadiya, who sneered at the goddess.

" _I_ 'fink i'fs sm'rt!" The scathing glare Remy got shut him right up, though he snickered at how put-off she was. He swallowed his chunk of bread and deli meat and exhaled sharply. "And don't be such a stick in the mud!"

"Why _should_ I?" Nadiya shoved a Reuben melt on marbled rye in her mouth and tore a part of it off to gnaw on. "You two had the opportunity to pick what _ever_ name you went by but since King Dick and _his_ shit, I've had to assume a secret identity because _heaven_ forbid they find us!"

"If you had given Mary a name when she asked the _first_ time, you wouldn't have had to go by whatever she picked. Managing social media remotely isn't easy! You should see the Reddit threads about us!" Remy scarfed down another sandwich and wiped a messy slurry of mustard and breadcrumbs off with the back of his hand. "The fanart is bad on levels I don't like knowing about."

"ART OF FANS? IT IS OBVIOUS THAT KARDALAH WOULD HAVE FANS BUT THE DEMON AS WELL? WHO'DVE THOUGHT!" Kardalah emptied her Big Gulp in one draught and belched.

"Trust me on this one, you _don't_ wanna see this shit. Rule 34 is a nasty beast and _apparently_ you fit a lot of weirdo's macro/micro fetish." Remy shuddered.

"I'm going to have you stop there," Nadiya commanded around her mouthful of Reuben. "I'm _almost certain_ the kind of porn people are drawing of 'Doctor Armory' and I _won't_ have any more of that shit. "

" _Look_ ," Remy shrugged, "I _could_ make a small self-destructive virus to wipe it all out but pervs will be pervs so best to leave them where they are. On subreddits and hentai sites."

"Couldn't Sage—?"

"Not a _fucking_ chance, Jones." The three looked up to see Mary slip in through the window and dust off her hoodie. Her red curls framed her face like a righteous inferno. "I will _not_ go dumpster diving again. Not for _you_ ; not for _anyone_. Now gimme a sandwich and let's debrief I guess?"

Remy slid Mary a club sandwich and washed down his own hoagie with a deep sip of his Sprite-Pepsi mix. "So Brick House?"

"Not one of _ours_ ," Mary mumbled around the sandwich. "Givin' off a mad signal but it's more... _chaotic_. I think it might be a prototype attempt at augmentation. Pre- _me_ , of course."

"And thus King Dick sullies my good work farther. _Fuck_ that man," Nadiya scribbled down something on a sheet of paper and ripped another bite out of her Reuben.

"A _POX_ UPON HIS TESTICLES AND HIS ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD FOR HIS THEFT OF THE DEMON'S HARD WORK!" Kardalah raised her Stromboli in a mock-toast and Remy mimicked the gesture. Mary slipped her watch back on her wrist and her hair fell back to its normal state of curl-induced frizz.

"Long and short is that I'm not certain our suppressors will work on this one. We may have to get the stimplants to wholly reject her. And _even then_ , there's a _pretty_ high chance of her dying from the immediate withdrawal. Her body was pretty fucked up by the procedure." Mary took another ravenous bite of her sandwich. "Looks like her golem didn't slough off all the way. Any ideas, Jones? It _is_ your polymer, after all."

Nadiya dragged her pen hard enough to leave a deep gash in the paper. Her teeth were gritted tight. "If I knew how to fix this shit, I'dve already _done_ so. Do you think I just sit on my ass, whistling Dixie all day? I am _trying_ , Sage! So _get off my dick_!"

Kardalah's brow crinkled. "THE DEMON HAS A DICK? HOW THEN HAS IT NOT ATTEMPTED TO SPREAD ITS PROGENY?"

"It's just a metaphor." Remy patted Kardalah on the arm gently.

"WHAT'S A META FOR?" The sparkle in the goddess' eyes let on that she was joking but Nadiya had had enough.

" _Fuck all of you!_ I'll be in my lab if any of you decide to be _grown-ass adults_ about this!" She spun around, labcoat flaring at her heels, and stomped away. The sound of a door slamming shut echoed through their small apartment.

"Touchy?" Mary offered around a bite of sandwich.

" _Guilty_ , most likely." Remy twiddled his thumbs and then glanced up at Kardalah. "You done eating?"

The goddess frowned but finished her Stromboli with all the grace a seven-foot tall woman with the power of weather at her fingertips could. "IF I _MUST_..."

" _Thanks_ ," he slapped his watch on and inhaled sharply as the world seemed to bear down heavily on him. At the same time, a sulking Kardalah compressed back into Irene, who sighed heavily and pressed her forehead against the dining room table.

"I feel like I was used to conduct an EMP," she moaned. Remy nudged a chicken salad sandwich towards her and huffed in laughter as she nibbled on the edge of it. " _Why_ twice in a row though?"

"Search me," Remy leaned back in his chair and pulled an oversized rubber band from his jacket pocket. He started the pattern for Jacob's Ladder as he absently went over the day's events and the showdown against Brick House. They saved the hostages—one concussed dude who went by Jonathan Sparks and half a dozen other people suffering from bleeding of both the internal _and_ external variety—knocked Brick House down a peg, and then came back to base. Quick and fairly easy. Never mind the reporters getting in their grill. Never mind the general frustration flowing through all of them. Never mind that Remy never even _fucking_ picked up his _goddamn donuts_. People were saved and _that's_ what counted.

"She seemed... _distressed_ the second time?" Irene made grabby hands at Mary, who slid her the pot of coffee. "Oh _thank fuck_. Mary, you are a godsend. This is perfect."

"You, me, and grumpy-ass need our bean sludge a certain way so fuck all if I don't know how to make it so." Remy chuckled and Mary rolled her eyes, ravenously tearing another chunk out of her sandwich. "W'so funny, Stringbean?"

"What's the surface tension on that shit? You could fucking grout tiles with it!" Nerves and exhaustion aside, it was nice to just joke around with his friends like this.

"Probably the same as epoxy. The good stuff," Mary noted. Irene snorted around her sandwich.

"Holding us together despite the world trying to crush us to rubble. _Bless_ the coffee epoxy!" She toasted with her mug of sludge. Mary echoed the gesture and crammed the rest of her food in her mouth.

Introspective and still mindlessly doing string tricks, Remy mused aloud, "You think Dick and Martine have anything to do with this? Or do you think it's just some sort of freak conjuncture?"

"Correlation versus causation, Jump Boy," Mary shrugged. "I don't even _fucking_ know."

"That's my _point_ though. _How_ long has Dick been free? Like a month?" Remy pushed back.

"Bout."

"I mean," Irene interjected, "as far as we know. That's the first time we heard of him being loose. He could've been operating incognito while he was recovering. Martine has a pretty one-track mind and she can be... _forceful_...if need be. Or if she _determines_ need be."

" _Yikes_ ," Remy noted.

"Agreed," Mary nodded.

"I just...don't know what to think..."

The silence was deafening. They mused their predicament and sighed in tandem.

"I don't think any of us do," Mary admitted. Remy groaned.

"Well at least our 'day lives' are pretty fucking chill," he noted.

"Elaine's work as head of HR at fucking McDonalds is a goddamn nightmare so _nah_. It's _not_. _Fuck_ McD's." Irene rolled her eyes and took a slug of her coffee.

"I'm just some rando fucking internet punk so I _think_ I'm good?" Mary slid Irene another sandwich and sighed. "Aside from all the PR SNAFUs that big and beefy cause and all of the porn, I'm pretty salt-free."

Remy shrugged, "Chris' IT job is just every other goddamn IT job. ' _Have you tried turning it off and then on again? Are you certain it's plugged in? Is the Wi-Fi on?_ ' Standard stupidity."

More silence.

"I hope that Jones gets her panties un-knotted. She needs to maybe take life less seriously sometimes?" Mary ate a spoonful of coffee sludge and smacked like a dog enjoying peanut butter.

"I think we need to give her a break. Martine and Dick _did_ take her life's work and turn it into an attempt at global domination so...," Irene attempted to play devil's advocate around a mouthful of food. "And having to go from Nadiya Jones, Nobel Peace Prize winning bio-technical scientist to Natalie Jameson, pharmacy aide is a very low blow."

"She does have far too many PhDs for her to just be selling medication," Remy conceded.

"Cry me a fucking river. She still needs to un-fuck her attitude before I drop a custom ransomware in her goddamn PC. I will make her play the entirety of Superman 64 before I remove it, believe you me."

"Rude," Irene noted.

"Agreed," Remy nodded.

"I don't even give a shit," Mary grumped.

"Well at least we can rest while the local PD deals with Brick House." Remy took a moment to clear their dining table of dishes and trash, humming as he did so. "Knock on wood, we get a break before the next goddamn boss fight a la Shadow of the Colossus."

"Not likely."

"Fuck off Mary."

"Eat me, Stringbean."

"Shut up both of you. My head is trying to explode." And Irene, voice of wisdom and local mom-friend, ended the petty squabble.

Honestly though? They could all use a break.

* * *

The super villain known as Brick House lay supine on a holding cell floor. The only indication that she was alive was the slight rise and fall of her rubble-like chest. Outside of her cell, two people conversed.

"Not one of our best attempts, is it?"

"Undoubtedly. A _complete_ garbage fire."

"Should we thank the local supes?"

"Do you wanna blow our or their cover?"

"...no..."

"Then _hell_ to the fucking naw."

A long bit of silence followed as the two conversing watched Brick House sleep.

"You think dickhead noticed his rejects rampaging around?"

"No but his goddamn demon wife did. I'll bet my entire 6IV comp team that she's got someone en route as of _yesterday_."

"Wish we could help her."

" _His wife?!_ "

" _No_ , jackass. I wish we could help Anya! Why...why the _fuck_ would I want to help _that_ terror?"

"Iunno... _cowardice_?"

"The chance to be boot-licking cowards has long passed. When the Berg sank we cast our lots so let's just sleep in it, huh?"

"...that is a lot of metaphors."

"I have a lot of meta for use."

" _Regardless_..."

"I just...Doctor Armory is the one who made this fucking stimplant bullshit, right?"

"Her research was the base, yes."

Brick House snuffled and snored softly, turning over to be more comfortable.

"Can we contact her?"

"Do you like your head where it is?"

"Oh _right_...the nightmare of HR. You know I saw her make a senior security officer cry?"

"I believe it."

Silence ensued.

"Why kids?"

"I don't know dude..."

"Fuck that."

"Yeah..."

And the silence continued well into the morning. No one liked it.


	3. Legal Ramifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan Sparks and the No Good, Very Bad Day 2: Electric Boogaloo (ft. Natalie Nearly Killing A Coworker and Chris Bringing the Good News)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAS BEEN AN AGE!!!
> 
> Wassup nerds. It me, chaboi Sandr, back on my bullshit here.
> 
> I have a vague plotline for this nonsense so be prepared for fun shit to go down. It's gonna be a wild fucking ride y'all.
> 
> Don't ever expect regular updates. My muse for this waxes and wanes with the moon and my mood so it's...fickle at best and depressingly sparse at worst.
> 
> This chapter has more of Jonathan, my favorite hurty boy, as well as two new OCs with reoccurring roles and a cameo by dickhead scientist Lucas totally not Miller! RIP y'all. It only gets worse from here.
> 
> But no worries! This story will have a happy ending! And Brick House will see an end. It's all part of the plan.
> 
> Anyhow...enjoy!

Johnathan woke to the sound of a heart meter beeping intermittently and the taste of blood, bile, and medical sterility. And, most importantly, the headache of a century. " _I_ —" he croaked as he tried to pry his eyelids open.

Someone in his room stood up and, as his vision cleared, he could make out the face of a cheery orderly in pristine scrubs, a nametag on his chest reading "Simon". He clasped his hands together and grinned at Johnathan. " _Wow_ ie. You sure got up quick. Looks like Debbie owes me a _chic-fil-a_ sandwich after all!"

Johnathan winced at the loudness of Simon's voice. " _Please_ ," he moaned.

"Oh, _sorry_ bout that. Forgot your brain was still a little sunny-side-up from your encounter with Brick House. I'll keep it down then." Simon grinned again and pulled one of the metal chairs up to Johnathan's bed. "Mind if I ask you a few questions? I can get hold of some water, if that helps. The IV probably is doing jack-all for your poor, dry throat."

" _Water_?" He tried to sound hopeful but his body tensed up as he breathed and pain erupted across his whole collarbone.

" _Sure_!" Behind Simon, a short-haired person in a green shirt passed a bottle of room-temperature water to him, and he passed it to Johnathan, who scrabbled about with the cap before knocking it over in frustration. " _Oh jeeze_. You're just having a rough go of it, _aren't_ you?" Simon opened the bottle and helped Johnathan greedily drink. "So let's lay down some basics. Your...insurance _won't_ cover the costs of the surgery you're going to have to undertake. Your collarbone is pretty broken and you've just _destroyed_ your shoulder and elbow on your right side. Add in some scarring and physical therapy, it's just...a _lot_. And with the fact that it was _also_ a supervillain attack? Most insurance companies have an escape clause for _that alone!_ "

Johnathan took a greedy gulp and used his free hand to wipe his lips. " _And_?"

"Pessimist, _huh_? Nice to see a trait that survived all that." Simon's smile widened. A short person in a white dress shirt passed Simon a clipboard and black pen. The corner of Simon's mouth curled up. " _Well_ , the hospital won't _discharge_ you, per se, but the payments will be brutal and, on _your_ salary, _might_ last you your lifetime. Never mind the fees for therapy, medicine—you're gonna be flying high for a _long_ long time—and so on. You could be in deep debt for forever. It's not pretty."

Behind Simon, a person in a demure skirt with yellow nail polish cleared their throat. "The _thing_."

Simon laughed heartily. " _Oh right!_ The thing! Yeah! _Sorry_." He turned back to Johnathan, smile back at full blast. "So as my associate _so kindly_ reminded me: there _is_ an alternative. I'm sure you remember the Fellowship and its _terrific_ fall from grace, right? The Summit? Martine?" Johnathan nodded in affirmation and Simon rewarded him with a soft sip of water. "Well the clean up from that is that sometimes, what remains of the humanities department of the Fellowship are offering a write-off. They take care of any injuries, damages, and costs accrued by way of their failed superhuman nonsense and you don't join a class action. It keeps them out of jail and it keeps people happy and placid."

Johnathan croaked out what he hoped to be the question " _why_ " but wound up sounding more like a strangled squeaky toy. Simon laughed.

"Deep down, maybe, they feel _indirectly_ guilty about the supervillains? Possibly it's that they still function as a government agency and often _work_ as such, despite the fact. _Most likely?_ It's easier than lawsuits?" Simon shrugged and waved his clipboard about slightly. "But _irregardless_! What I'm on about is this: the humanities department has a system to take care of people like you, who've been hurt in the crossfire of the villains and vigilantes. _Pro bono_. Free of charge." Simon smiled and leaned forward. "All you have to do is sign off on it and we're _good_!"

Jonathan stared at the clipboard, squinting at the dark squiggles on too too bright paper. Then he looked back up at Simon. "Sign off?"

"Your John Hancock _right_ there. On the line," Simon prompted.

"I _can't_ —?" Jonathan started, then swallowed, his vision swimming. "I'm not sound of mind? Isn't that a _law_ thing? I've gotta...be _working_ in the... _brain_ department?"

A masculine person in dark slacks with a bowl cut whispered something in Simon's ear. Simon's eyebrows shot up and he tittered behind a bright, toothy smile. "Right, _right_. My friend here reminded me of the whole sound of mind thing that has to happen when it comes to signing paperwork. How's bout this: what color shirt is my friend wearing? Just a litmus test to make sure the bruising in your noggin didn't do anything _permanent_. They'll act as witness, _kay_?" Jonathan nodded. "Great! So what color shirt are they wearing?"

Jonathan stared at the other person in the room, eyes squinting as he tried to get the room to stop throbbing in time with his heartbeat. "Red." _Yeah_ , that was right. "Your friend's wearing a red polo."

Simon's smile widened. " _Excellent_! So you're _good_! Sign away Johnny-boy! We'll get you the help you need, free of charge, on the government's dime." Jonathan scribbled out his chicken-scratch signature and leaned back in his bed, exhausted. _Done_. Thank _fuck_.

Simon stood up and gave Jonathan a cheeky grin. "Okay. Thanks _so_ much Mr. Sparks. You'll be hearing from our people soon. We're gonna fix you _right_ up." Then he left, a person in a green tanktop and shorts trotting behind him.

Jonathan succumbed to the sweet embrace of sleep, body collapsing back into nothingness.

Outside of Jonathan's room, Simon looked at his friend. "You make _such_ a good litmus tedt, Camille. Thank you for your service. You've been a great help."

Camille adjusted her grey hoodie and shoved a pen in her cargo pants. She said nothing, just stared at Simon with a dead gaze.

"Always the conversationalist," Simon laughed. "I guess that's why we're partners. You're smart enough to be quiet and do as I ask and I'm visible enough to get shit done. Silence suits you."

"I didn't respond," Camille said through gritted teeth, "because you're not worth the effort. Besides," she bared her teeth at him, "I don't do what Simon says."

Simon just laughed.

* * *

Natalie filed a prescription in the back and rubbed her temples with a long-suffering moan. Another antibiotic. Another idiot. _Fuck_.

"Hey Nat?" One of her coworkers called from up front. Natalie poked her head from the filing area and scowled at him. " _Someone_ is...asking for you?"

" _Who_?" Her coworker, a mousy young man whose nametag read 'Lucas', flinched.

"Someone named Chris? Wearing a _hoodie_? _Black_ gentleman? Says it's _urgent_? _Family matter_ or something?" Lucas's eyes darted back and forth, sweat dotting his brow.

Natalie hissed in frustration. "Tell him I'll be out in five. I'm taking my lunch."

"You— _I'm_ scheduled for lunch next?!" Lucas protested.

"Yeah well, I'm taking my lunch _now_. You can have my lunch shift. Be back in thirty." She clocked out for lunch and slung on her peacoat, brushing past Lucas without a thought in the world. Lucas squeaked slightly, but nothing else.

Chris was bouncing gently as he waited for Natalie to come out. His hands were abuzz, fingers drumming against his legs. When Natalie walked out, hands in her pockets, he lit up and waved. " _Heyyyyyyyy_ Nat! Yeah, you came! _Nice_! I was kinda worried coz your skeezy dude Lucas was sweating up a storm. Plus he had this look like ' _oh, it's the bitch's thug boyfriend_ ' and I didn't have the spoons to correct him. Wasn't gonna just say 'hey, _dude_? One: _hella_ gay. Two: _not_ a thug, _fuck you_. Three: _eat ass_?' But like, _yanno_???" He flapped a bit as he spoke and Natalie just shook her head.

"He's an _ass_ , plain and simple."

"Do you hafta let them call you that though? I mean, you're not, like, _nice_ but...rude???" Chris kept moving his hands as they walked to the small café next door. " _Anywho_ ," he grinned at Natalie, "got some good news!"

"Reddit crashed and all those hero-fuckers lost their porn?" Natalie ordered a coffee and a bagel with lox from the very confused barista, tipping them moderately high.

"God, no! I _wish_!" Chris shook his head and placed an order for a warm scone and latte, smiling cheering at the barista. "Nah, just stopping by to let you know that Space Cadet found a way to track the baddies and pull the stops before they break bad!"

This caught Natalie's attention. "She can _track_ them?"

"Their signal isn't like ours. Not as strong or as networked but, she says that Brick House gave her a frequency to look for and that makes finding them _easier_?" He sipped his coffee, trying not to burn his mouth.

" _So what_ , she _can_ track them?" Her bagel was gone, consumed in the spaces between their dialogue.

"Like a game of Hot/Cold, but _yeah_. She can _kinda_ track 'em. It's still _super_ in alpha but she's been installing the program in my watch. See if that helps while I'm jogging. You want a copy?" He waved his arm, watch blinking brightly, in her face. Natalie sniffed derisively.

"I'll get her to install it on my blocker. No offence meant, Chris, but I don't trust cloud sharing for shit like this." He snorted into his coffee, spraying milk foam across his chin.

" _Man_ , Nat, if I took offence to everything you said like that, I'd never _not_ be offended! I'll let her know to prep an install when you get off?"

"Six."

" _Holy fuck_."

"More money."

"I repeat: holy. _Fuck_."

"Not everyone gets weekends off, _Chris_." Her tone became more pointed, face sharpening. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

" _Alright_! Cool your jets. I _gotcha_. Anyway, I gotta get back to jogging. Tell Lucas to bite me." Chris dusted the crumbs off his chest and stretched a bit before heading to leave. "Also: Elaine says she's got some fries for you later. Want me to let her know you're down for the clown's good good French fries?"

Natalie dropped her trash in the bin. "Yeah. A large, if possible. She gets off about when I do, _yeah_?"

"Give or take five angry people."

"My sympathies."

" _Don't_ murder that dude! I like this city." Chris laughed, jogging off.

"No promises," Natalie replied, entering work again. Lucas looked up from his journal and waved nervously. "I won't promise anything." She clocked back in and gestured to the computer. "Take your lunch. I'm done."

"No one is here to relieve me! You'll be by _yourself_!" Lucas protested.

"And I'll enjoy every minute of it. _Go_." She shooed him off, face blank, eyes dark. He scurried away, the rat.

Blissful silence. No prescriptions for a few hours. Lucas at lunch.

Time for some Science.

She'd figure out what was happening and find some way to reverse it or her name wasn't Nadiya Jones, PHD!

Martine would pay for fucking up her work.

_All_ of them would.


End file.
